When the Fat Lady Sings
by Nora Winters
Summary: This is an oldie that for some reason I hadn't posted. Sometimes an easy job isn't as easy as it seems.


**When the Fat Lady Sings**

With a bang and a lurch, the door slammed, and the train began its slow acceleration.

"Oh, dear, oh my goodness," The little man fluttered and flittered, wringing his hands and uttering small, shrill moans, while generally getting in the way. He surveyed the straps securing the organ in place. "Oh, I just don't know if this is secure enough."

The Kid rolled his eyes at Heyes, who shrugged.

"I'm sure it's fine. See, it didn't move at all when the train started up." With a broad smile, Heyes patted the man's back, comforting him.

Curry walked over to the freight car door and slid it open. Even though the day was overcast, the weak light and humid air was welcome in the stuffy compartment.

"We'll be together a while, we might as well use first names. I'm Joshua Smith and my partner there is Thaddeus Jones." Heyes smiled brightly at the man crouched next to the instrument patting it and crooning.

"What? Oh, oh, of course." For the first time, the man turned his attention to the partners. He smiled tentatively at them, his smile dimming as his frightened stare took in the weapons strapped to their sides. "I'm, I'm…" He gulped, lifted his chin, and began again. "My name's Silas Tiberius Uttermole."

"That's a mouthful," Curry commented, settling comfortably into the hay that filled a corner of the car.

"Yeah, a bit much to say all the time," Heyes agreed. "How do you shorten it?"

"I don't"

Curry snorted and pulled his hat over his eyes. Heyes wandered around the car, taking in the pile of trunks in one corner, his eyes lighting as he noticed a small lockbox against the far wall. He shook his head. "It's a Merchant's Friend … the old model," he commented to the Kid.

"It's like they're askin' to be robbed."

Uttermole looked back and forth at the two, bewildered. The partners relaxed with the motion of the swaying freight car.

o0O0o

As the sun sank, the partners moved over to the open door and sat with their legs dangling as they opened a sack and pulled out sandwiches and hard-boiled eggs. Curry reached over and grabbed a canteen, taking a deep swallow before handing it to Heyes.

He turned to the man huddled by the instrument, "Want somethin' to eat Mr. Butterbean?"

"Not Butterbean, Thaddeus, its Underman," Heyes corrected, winking at Curry.

"No, Uttermole, Uttermole," the man sighed. He crept over closer to the two and accepted the proffered sandwich. "Never mind. No one ever gets it right. At school they did terrible things to the name." He sighed in despair. "I guess you should call me what everyone else does – Stutter."

"Stutter?"

"Yes – 'S' for Silas, 'T' for Tiberius…"

"And 'Utter' for Uttermole, I see." Heyes swallowed his smile.

"You have no idea how difficult it is to have your name be such a burden."

"Oh, we do," the Kid chuckled. "Why I know a fella whose first name is so bad he'll only use his last name."

Heyes glared then rolled his eyes. "So, Stutter, what's so all fired important about this piano that you'd hire us to guard it?"

Stutter turned to feast his eyes, once again, on the instrument. "Oh, it's not a piano, it's an organ and a real beauty at that. The newest model, small and portable." He sighed. "Can't wait to play it in church next Sunday. Won't that be wonderful?"

"Don't sound real dangerous," Curry commented. "Why the guards?"

Uttermole turned shocked eyes on the partners. "It took us three years to raise enough money, and just think what could happen. Think if the train got robbed."

The two looked at him open mouthed, stared at the organ sitting serenely in its web of strapping, and turned back to their companion. "I wouldn't worry about that; trains we ride on never get robbed," Heyes reassured him.

"Yeah, only the ones we ride to," Curry muttered quietly. Heyes ignored him.

o0O0o

Early the next morning the three men were jolted awake by a sudden stop.

"Stand and deliver!" filtered in from outside.

"I do believe we're bein' robbed, Joshua."

"It does sound like that, doesn't it, Thaddeus." Heyes disentangled himself from Uttermole.

"Oh, goodness, whatever shall we do? You must protect the organ." Uttermole cowered behind the partners, while throwing frightened glances at the doorway.

Heyes and Curry exchanged grins. "Relax, they're not after the organ; it wouldn't fit in their saddlebags." They raised their hands as a gun appeared in the opening and their eyes widened. Heyes shook his head, closing his eyes briefly.

"Hey … Wheat …" the robber called.

"No need to call reinforcements, we're not fighting you," Heyes said hastily, bending to untie his weapon and gesturing for the Kid to do the same. "We have no interest in whatever's in that safe over there. Just let us get down, you can have whatever you want; right, Thaddeus?"

"Uh, sure." Curry hastily undid his weapon, grabbed Heyes' gunbelt and walked to the door with them held out to the gunman in the doorway. As the robber, wide-eyed, reached for the weapons, Curry hissed, "Remember, you don't know us."

"Uh, yeah, yeah." The man shook himself. "Stay there a minute, will you?" he disappeared from sight.

Uttermole, standing with his hands in the air, turned to his companions. "That was strange; do train robbers usually behave like that?"

Heyes suppressed a grin. "No idea, not being that familiar with train robbers and such. But this does seem pretty amateurish."

As he finished speaking, Wheat appeared in the doorway. Eyes narrowed he glared at Heyes for a moment, glanced at Curry, and swallowed before speaking. "You three, get down from there."

Heyes and Curry jumped down lightly from long practice. Uttermole, however, having kept his hands raised, fell into a mud puddle as he leapt. Heyes and Curry picked him up and set him upright.

Wheat stared at them his brow furrowed, but receiving no further comments, he turned his attention to the freight car. After an examination of the contents, he leaned out of the car and called, "Kyle, bring the dynamite. Two sticks should do it."

"Oh dear, oh dear," Uttermole fretted. "You have to save my organ," he beseeched his companions.

Shaking his head, Heyes gestured to Curry. "Stay here, Stutter, and we'll see what we can do. I worked for a locksmith once and know some things about that type of safe."

"Uh, sir…" he called to Wheat, grimacing and walking back to the freight car, Curry following behind.

As they reached Wheat, Kyle came running over. "I don't believe it. Hank told me, but I just didn't believe him."

"Kyle, be quiet," Curry snapped.

"Oh, right. Sorry."

Heyes ignored them and focused on Wheat. "Wheat, I can't let you dynamite that safe."

"How you gonna stop me? You don't run this gang, no more. I do, and I say we're gonna dynamite it."

"Wheat," the Kid spoke. "You dynamite it, and you're goin' to blow up everythin' in the place."

"So?"

"So, how about I open it for you?" Heyes suggested.

Wheat's eyes narrowed. "Is this some trick? I thought you two had gone straight."

"No trick, just turn your gun on me and order me into the car, so's all the passengers hear you. Just don't use my name."

Wheat smiled. "You know, I could get to like this plan of yours." He pointed his gun at Heyes. "You, in the car," he snarled, backing up. "Kyle, you too." He gestured at Curry. "You stay out here."

Curry glared but complied, crossing his arms and planting himself firmly at the opening.

The rest of the gang ignored the passengers and stood watching curiously until they caught Curry's glare and hastily went back to business.

o0O0o

Heyes sat back on this heels as he pulled to door to the safe open. "Five minutes, piece of cake." He gestured to Kyle. "Kyle, take what you want."

"I run this gang now, Heyes. I give the orders," Wheat snarled. "Kyle, take what we want."

Once Kyle finished, Heyes swung the door shut. "Wheat, let me have your gun, and I'll shoot the lock off."

"Why would you do that? You already opened it."

"Yes, but we don't want anyone to know I opened it. Now let me do the aiming, so the bullet doesn't ricochet back and hit one of us." Heyes held out his hand impatiently.

"Oh." Wheat handed over the gun and stood back.

Heyes aimed carefully and winged the safe, the bullet angling off and disappearing into the straw. Heyes removed the rest of the bullets, pocketed them, and handed the gun back to Wheat. "Now we wait, then you all can escort me out of here at gunpoint."

"Ain't you gonna give me back the bullets?"

"With you pointing that thing at my back?"

"Wheat wouldn't shoot you, Heyes." Kyle looked anxiously between the two. "Would you, Wheat?"

"I just might at that, if he don't stop being so uppity. Just remember who's the leader here, and who's giving the orders."

Heyes rolled his eyes. "Wheat, just walk us back out." He looked at his former gang member over his shoulder. "Unless, of course, that is, as leader you've decided the gang should wait around for the posse that left the station, I figure about 5 minutes ago. If you're lucky the rain will pick up and wash out your tracks before the posse finds them – but you better hurry."

Wheat snorted and gestured for Heyes to exit.

o0O0o

As the train resumed its journey, the three men settled once more into the freight car.

"Sure hope that's the last trouble we face, Joshua."

"Come on, Thaddeus, even we couldn't get robbed twice in one train ride."

"Way our luck's runnin' lately, it wouldn't surprise me."

"I certainly hope not between here and Fairview, there's only the next stop before we reach it." Uttermole sighed. "It's when we arrive that I worry."

"What do you mean, when we arrive? What trouble are you expectin'?" Curry pulled the door of the car closed against the storm now raging outside and turned to examine the little man.

"Well…"

"Stutter, tell us what problem you expect so we can protect your precious bundle over there," Heyes snarled.

"It's just… It's just…" Uttermole wilted under the partners' combined glares. He closed his eyes and began again. "As I said, it took us three years to raise the money. We could have done it sooner if everyone had helped. But, but some of the women don't approve of an organ in the church. They say it's Satan's instrument, that God gave us voices to use…" He trailed off.

"And you think these ladies will cause trouble?" Heyes glanced at Curry. "I think we can handle a few unhappy church women."

"You haven't met Maud McCreevey."

Curry laughed. "I think we can handle her, even if she's a giant."

"No… no, she's actually very short; just very..." Uttermole turned away.

Heyes and Curry looked at each other and shrugged before settling in to sleep through the remainder of the journey.

o0O0o

The train shuddered to a stop, and the men gathered their things. Uttermole peered out the freight car, drawing back as men hurried through the rain to assist in unloading the car.

"Wrap it carefully, it can't get wet," he warned, hovering around the men offloading the organ.

The partners jumped down and stood back, watching as the instrument was slowly guided down the planks forming a ramp to the platform.

"This has to be one of the easiest jobs we've ever had," Curry muttered to Heyes.

"Yeah…."

"Out of my way, you oaf!"

The two turned startled eyes towards the apparition beating Heyes with her cane. Clad all in black, the woman barely reached their shoulders. As wide as she was tall, her corsets strained as she raised her arm to wield the cane again.

Curry reached out, grabbing the plump arm. "Ma'am, if you'd like to see the organ, we'd be happy to move aside. No need to force it."

"Fool." She spat, kicking him in the shins and jerking her arm free. She surged past the startled pair and descended on the organ, cane raised.

Curry shook himself and sprang forward, grabbing the cane. "Ma'am, don't do that."

Heyes reached out to help, but instead was distracted upon finding a cluster of women hissing at him and the other men.

"Devil's work!"

"The rain is God's way of showing His disapproval."

"Shame!"

The other men ignored the women and struggled to load the well-wrapped organ into the waiting wagon. Heyes and Curry restrained the protesters, trying to duck the blows of the one woman's cane and ignoring the venom of her cronies.

As the wagon began moving, the partners disentangled themselves and leapt onto it.

Curry removed his hat, and tried unsuccessfully to wipe the rain from his face. "Sheesh! What was that about?"

"I guess now we know why they hired us."

"I guess so."

They looked back to see the woman shake her fist at the departing wagon, her pendulous jowls flapping as she flung unheard words after them.

o0O0o

Heyes deposited a bottle and two glasses on the table, and the two sank wearily into the chairs. "Who would have thought a church organ could raise such a ruckus."

"Yeah. Easy job, you said." Curry sighed, emptied his glass, and refilled it.

"How're you feeling?"

"I've been beat worse."

"Yeah, but usually it's by the jealous boyfriend, not the lady herself."

"That was no lady." Curry stared at the table. "Did you count them? There were twelve of 'em."

"One more and the old witch could have had a whole coven."

The two drank silently.

"Mind if I join you?" Uttermole asked timidly.

"No, not at all." Heyes pushed out one of the chairs for him. "I'll get you a glass."

"Oh, no. Thank you, but I never drink alcohol." Uttermole silently thanked the man who had brought him a steaming mug of tea.

"Stutter, if you don't drink, why're you hangin' out in the saloon?" Curry's brow knitted. "If you don't mind my askin' that is."

"No, no, I don't mind." He stared at the table. "This is the only place I can get some peace and quiet. I married Widow McCreevey's daughter, you see."

He flushed as he saw their stares.

"Mavis isn't anything like her mother. Real quiet, meek you might say. But she can't stand up to her." He muttered, "Nobody can."

"Seems to me you're standin' up to her, bringin' an organ and all – seein' how all fired set against it the old bat is."

Uttermole looked at Curry in surprise. "Why yes, I guess I am. Fancy that." He pushed aside his empty mug, stood, and shrugged back into his slicker. "I should tell Mavis that. Might perk her up. This constant rain has sunk her spirits terribly, and her mother going on about us all being damned for bringing 'the devil's own harp' to the church hasn't helped. Still, I'm sure when all rise to sing accompanied by that soaring sound, she will recognize that music is a gift from God, not a sin."

The partners watched him head for the door and stop as the door swung wide.

"Parson! What are you doing here?"

"Mr. Uttermole, I am glad to find you, although surprised to do so here." The parson acknowledged him before pulling a chair from a table and standing upon it. Conversation slowly stopped. "Gentlemen," he called with a voice well used to carrying to the back of the church. "As you know, the rain has been coming down for days. Carson's Creek is rising fast. We need help to keep it from flooding the town."

A couple of hoots from the drunks could be heard, but several men downed their drinks quickly and stood.

Heyes and Curry looked at each other and sighed. They, too, downed their drinks and joined the crowd heading into the rain-soaked night.

o0O0o

Weak sunshine filtered through the scattering clouds. The rain that had been tapering off, ceased. Heyes and Curry huffed as they placed a final sandbag high up the bank of the raging creek – really more of a river now.

Along the line, men ceased their labors and raised a cheer.

The Parson, his mud-coated face breaking into a smile, called, "Gentlemen, I think we've done it. Please join us over at the church hall where the ladies are providing us with sustenance. I'm sure our women will provide a marvelous spread."

The partners stood back from the surge to the hall, only a short rise from the line of sandbags, the town stretching behind it into the distance. As they stretched and twisted to relieve their backs, sore from hours of lifting sandbags and shoring up the lines, they turned to watch the muddy waters careen by. Those ran swiftly until, in the distance, they fell over a cliff. What was normally no more than a trickle, was now a flood, crashing into the valley below and sending mist soaring up.

Curry winced as a large branch slammed into the line of bags, shifting them slightly. "Do you think it will hold?"

Heyes contemplated the sandbags oozing moisture and the roiling water beyond. "If it doesn't rain upstream, maybe. I've gotta admit, it don't look too solid. But we should be gone before they break anyway. What time's that train tomorrow?"

"Four fifteen – assumin' it's on time."

Heyes nodded. He tore his gaze from the water and shrugged. "Well, let's get us some of that sustenance the preacher promised."

o0O0o

Heyes and Curry stood to the side of the church hall enjoying full plates of food and the attentions of some of the younger women when a small murmur arose. Glancing up, they saw Stutter hurry over to take a basket from a woman who could only be his wife. Behind the pair, muttering to herself, Widow McCreevey stumped into the hall followed by her minions.

The woman looked neither left nor right but headed straight for the main table, pushing her way past those standing between her and her goal. At the table, she reached into her capacious bag and extracted a small jar of preserves. She set this among the overflowing platters the townswomen had prepared. Having set her preserves down, McCreevey proceeded to remove containers from her bag, fill them with the varied offerings on the buffet, and place the now-full containers back in her bag.

Heyes and Curry watched fascinated as the woman hefted her overloaded bag, grabbed a plate and filled that, too, to overflowing. She then turned away, stumped her way over to a table and ordered those sitting there up. After they hastily complied, she seated herself and began to consume the food she had gathered.

The partners were startled from their fascinated stare by the clearing of a throat. "Joshua, Thaddeus, I'm so glad you came. You must be sure to get some of Mavis' gingerbread. It's wonderful."

"Stutter, you're looking more cheerful than when we last saw you," Heyes greeted him.

"Did we just see what we thought we saw," Curry asked, "she brought one tiny jar of preserves and is eatin' enough to feed a whole gang for a week."

Uttermole turned to contemplate his mother-in-law. "Probably. That's what she usually does."

The widow paused in her eating to frown at them. "Don't you know it's rude to stare. Heathens, that's what you are, the whole lot of you."

The three hastily turned away.

o0O0o

"When'd you get religion, Kid?" Heyes grumbled as he sleepily made his way to the church the following morning.

"Do us some good. Besides, there was a real pretty blonde. Said she'd be there today and maybe we could visit afterwards before we catch that train."

"You and your women."

Thunder rumbled from a distance but no rain fell as the two slipped into the back of the church with the last of the stragglers.

"… and bless us, oh Lord, for this thy gift that we may lift our voices in song in praise of your many wonders. Amen."

As those gathered waited in anticipation, Stutter slowly made his way to the front of the church and pulled out the stool of the new organ.

The doors at the back of the church flew open.

Stutter paused halfway onto the stool and turned with the others to see the sight that confronted them.

Ignoring the water dripping from their sodden hats, as they had ignored the thunderstorm raging outside, Widow McCreevey flanked by her eleven acolytes – all clad in black – marched up the aisle to the front of the church. Knocking Uttermole aside, the women grabbed the organ and pushed it back down the aisle.

"I told you, this is the devil's work. There'll be no sinful instruments in any church in my town!" she cried as they headed out the door.

The closing of the doors unfroze those inside. Heyes and Curry, having the advantage of being at the back of the church, were among the first outside.

The widow and her friends were struggling to push the organ through the mud towards the stream.

"Stop her!" shrieked Uttermole.

The partners joined the men who surged forward, struggling through the mud to reach the encumbered women. Just as it seemed they were in reach, Widow McCreevey and her gaggle crested the top of the embankment. Most of the women had dropped out of the struggle but the widow forged on. The organ hesitated then sailed down the slope to the raging waters below, Widow McCreevey still attached. Astonished, the crowd watched the organ crash through the weakened line of sandbags and soar into the roiling waters, with Widow McCreevey now riding atop it.

Hands reached out to grab her. She spat curses and pummeled them with her cane until she was too far away to be reached.

Uttermole and his wife stood arm-in-arm, their mouths agape.

With a final screech that ended in a pitch-perfect high "C", the widow McCreevey sailed downstream and over the falls in the distance.

Struggling to find words, Heyes and Curry turned to the Uttermoles. "We're sorry you had to lose your mother that way, ma'am," they managed to say.

Mavis McCreevey Uttermole took a final look down the flowing waters and sighed. "That was Mamma. Mean to the very end."

Author's note: This story was inspired by family tales of one of my ancestors who was notorious for bringing a small jar of preserves to family potlucks then eating everything in sight and nabbing all the leftovers. She and her minions also pushed the new organ out of the nave and down the church steps because she refused to have any of that "heathen music" in her church. She did not, however, sail away on it. Luckily, it was before my time, so I never met the woman.


End file.
